Tom's Riddle
by John Fragile
Summary: The humble beginnings of one of the most evil dark wizards...
1. The Diary and the Death

The standard disclaimers apply. Some places, events, characters, etc. depicted in this story are the property of J.K. Rowling.

This is probably not an original story topic, but I think it provides a different perspective on Tom Riddle's life.

Tom's Riddle

by John Fragile

Chapter One: The Diary and the Death

The lights dimmed depressingly in the small drugstore as a crack of thunder sounded outside. The rain was coming down in sheets, pummeling the street outside. A young man surveyed the scene with dread. He knew that he would be outside in a matter of moments, being drenched relentlessly.

            "Can I help you?" asked a voice from directly in front of the young man.

            "Yes, I would like to purchase this," the young man responded, startled out of his rapt survey of the outside climate, indicating a small black book with a small keyhole on the front. Although battered and worn, the young man knew this book would suit his purposes just fine. He handed the item to the cashier who looked interestedly at the book. "Going to keep a diary?" he asked as a slight smile crept onto his elderly but kind face. 

            "Yeah," the young man responded simply. He knew it was best not to reveal too much information about his intended use of the book. 

            He paid the cashier for the diary with exact change, thanked him and turned to the glass door which would lead him out into the storm. As he stepped through the door, he was greeted with the sharp sting of the poring rain on his bare face. He held the book inside of his coat to protect it from the elements. It was only a short walk back to the orphanage.

            The young man walked slowly down the soaked street being careful not to slip. The facades of the buildings glared at him ominously as he passed. He noticed light in several upstairs windows glowing through the gloom. They gave him a feeling of hope; he would soon be indoors, away from the harsh weather. He would no longer be an outsider, an outcast forced to wander the streets in the dead of night in the poring rain with no umbrella or other form of protection. 

            The young man continued walking until he approached a low red-brick building. The brass sign above the door read John Sinnow's Home for Boys. A sinking feeling began in the pit of his stomach as he opened the door and stepped inside. His olfactory sense was immediately overpowered with a slight stench of stale fecal matter as he made his way down the indoor hallway. On his left and right were doors marked with various age groups. He made his way to the last door on the left, opened it quietly and stepped inside.

            The interior of the room was hard to discern in the less than adequate light. Orange-brown illumination crept in from the streetlights outside which allowed the young man to move down the rows of various beds to his own. A feeling of immense relief washed over him as he sat down on the bed. _I made it, he thought to himself._

            He took the diary out from the protection of his coat and took out a long stick-like object from one of the numerous pockets. He seemed to regard this item with immense pleasure. As he twirled the stick object in his fingers, he could remember the instructions given to him. "Make sure you get the charm right the first time or the Ministry will be able to sense it and will send an official warning. Make sure you will not be disturbed."

            With a wave of the stick, he muttered the words "_incatatem_ invisibilus_." Nothing appeared to have happened, but the young man seemed satisfied nonetheless._

            "To create the thought stream from your mind to the diary, tap the diary once with your wand, then tap your head twice and say the words _pensere__ rio. Your thoughts will then be connected to the diary and you can start the process of creating your memory within it."_

            The young man followed these instructions flawlessly. _So what's supposed to happen? _he thought. Then, the diary opened and the pages turned quickly with a quiet whoosh and the words "So what's supposed to happen?" appeared on the first writable page of the diary in a gothic, flowing script, not unlike his own. The words promptly disappeared.

            "After the thought stream is set up, think hard and long about your first significant memory and say the words _vita repetere_. This will allow all of your memories from this point forward to be transferred into the diary."

            He waved his wand and said the words and felt a strange sensation wash over him. It was like floating above his body. The scene abruptly changed with a flash of white light…

            The meal area of John Sinnow's Home for Boys was loud, obnoxious, and the last place anyone in their right mind would want to eat. Several long and somewhat unclean tables occupied positions around the moderately sized room. The smell of overcooked meat and undercooked vegetables assaulted the nostrils when first entering this area of the Home. The janitors had been cleaning the same food stains off of the cheap wood floors for years.

            Along the back wall, there was a window through which the food lady would offer choice vittles three times a day. Outside the window, about forty boys stood in line waiting to be served. One solitary figure stood a few feet away from the last person in line. It was a young boy of about ten with dark hair and piercing blue eyes. He would move up every so often with the rest of the line, but was not really a part of it. 

            An ugly blonde-haired boy of about the same age as the dark-haired boy had just gotten served and sauntered up to him and stated quite matter-of-factly, "Look Tom, they're serving your face today." Loud laughter rang out in the rest of the line. Tom looked at what the blonde kid was referring to. He had drawn a crude smiley face in the refried beans. It smiled stupidly up at him as though willing him to respond with a swift kick to the groin.

            "How clever of you, Otto" Tom replied quietly. "You've finally learned to draw."

            "What was that?"

            "Nothing."

            "I thought so." Just then Otto's two large-sized friends walked up with an heir of superiority and the three of them went to a table and sat down. Every once in a while they would look up and start laughing at Tom for no apparent reason. 

            _Just another day, Tom thought as he moved up a few feet to keep with the line. Tom was used to being treated horribly by not only the other boys at the orphanage, but also the staff. He was not a conformist and as a result was treated with open hostility. But, at least the staff tried to hide their disapproval and annoyance with him.  _

            "Tom, how are you today?" asked a kind voice from behind him. The voice belonged to Rory, the janitor. He was perhaps the only person who did not dislike Tom. But, he was only a janitor and did not have the authority to make things better for Tom. 

            "Fine," he lied. He couldn't tell Rory about the constant torment he was suffering. He never did. Talking about it would only bring more disapproval and perhaps sour the only friendship—if it could be called that—that he had.

            "Salisbury steak today," Rory said mock-excitedly.

            "I know. It just doesn't seem like beef. Have you ever noticed that there are no birds around here for like a five-block radius?"

            "You know, I have."

            "Well, the chicken nuggets, Salisbury steak, hamburgers, and fish sticks all taste the same."

            A slight chuckle escaped Rory's lips as he said, "Well, they haven't given me the net in a month, so I reckon it is beef."

            A smile broke across Tom's face and he almost let out a laugh. Rory could usually make Tom smile, at least a little. His were the only jokes that Tom heard that weren't about him. 

            At six feet five inches, Rory towered above most of the students and staff at the orphanage. Although he was tall, he did not have nearly enough meat on his bones. He had sort of a gangly look about him with sunk-in cheek bones and a head that was too small for his tall frame. Coupled with the five o'clock shadow he wore, he was downright scary to behold. 

            "That's the first time I've seen you smile in a month," Rory stated. "You look good when you smile, you should do it more often."

            "Thanks," Tom replied, unsure how to take such a complement.

            He reached the window and was handed a tray with "food" on it by a plump woman with a very round face. Most of the food looked indigestible, but he needed to eat.

            "I gotta go scrub the toilets," said Rory. "I'll see you later."

            As Rory walked away, Tom walked around the meal area looking for a place to sit. The crowded tables all looked uninviting and as he approached some, he thought he saw kids spreading out so that he could not sit down. 

All of a sudden, he stumbled on something, then he was flying through the air, the tray floating in front of him. The tray suddenly came up to meet his face and he had a face full of refried beans. He heard hysterical laughter all around him as he hit the floor with a dull thud. He scrambled to get up, but right in front of him was Otto.

            "They really were serving your face," he said and a thunderous round of laughter ensued once again. The embarrassment of it all was too much for Tom. He just lied there, face stinging. "I've got a riddle for you Tom. What's red, brown and ugly? Give up? Your face!" if it was even possible, the laughter got louder still.

            "That's enough Otto," said a cold voice. It belonged to the 9-12 supervisor, Dolly. She was a real piece of work. "I'm sure that Mr. Riddle is very sorry for tripping right in front of you."

            The rage inside of Tom Riddle could not be quantified or explained, there was so much of it and so little opportunity for release. Before he knew it, he was running out of the meal area toward the bathroom, down the long hallway. He reached the bathroom door, opened it and bolted inside and slammed it shut with a loud crack.

            He walked over to the sink and looked in the dirty and cracked mirror bolted to the wall above it. He could see the mad gleam in his eyes. He had never felt this angry before. His hatred for Otto had grown today, grown taller than the volcano that was erupting within his mind, spilling hot magma with sharp vengeance. When it cooled, the magma would become hard and change him forever. 

            Tom proceeded to wash the beans off of his forehead. The cool water had a soothing effect, calming the rage, easing the pain.

            "Tom, are you alright?" asked a familiar voice.

            "No, Rory, I'm not."

            "What happened?"

            "I don't wanna talk about it."

            "I think I have a pretty good idea anyway," Rory said while he walked over to where Tom was washing. He put his hands into the running water and started washing Tom's face for him. Tom could smell the harsh smell of the cleaning chemicals that Rory had been using on the toilets. "You can't let people get to you. Just ignore it and eventually you won't be the target anymore. They'll move on to someone else. The quicker the better."

            "What about the people they 'move onto?'" Tom asked.

            "Don't worry about them, you have yourself to worry about," Rory replied. "That's all you can worry about in this place." Rory had stopped washing Tom's face and was gently stroking his back. From anyone else this would have been reassuring, but for some reason, it made Tom uncomfortable. He made some excuse for having to leave and walked quickly out of the bathroom.   Once again he was walking down the hall, but instead of going back to the meal room where he should have been, went the opposite way down the hall. He came to a door marked with the numbers 9-12 and went in. He made his way to his bed which was along the opposite wall right in front of a dusty and dirty window. He flopped down on the bed which gave a small squeak of protest and fell asleep.

            Tom woke up some time later with a start. Apparently, the boy in the next bed had given a loud snore. He looked around the now darkened room with apprehension. He found Otto was sound asleep three beds down from him. Seeing the face again brought back the memory of what had happened, with the memory came the anger, with the anger, the rage, and the rage brought on a desire for revenge so strong it overwhelmed him. He thought back to all the times he had been tormented by Otto, beaten up, teased, made a fool of. 

            Otto's breathing began to get louder and deeper, as Tom's anger grew to new heights. He needed an outlet for all this rage. Otto began to wheeze and woke up with a hiss and began to wheeze like someone having an asthma attack. He began to scream with fright. Tom was almost enjoying himself. _Revenge is sweet_, he thought to himself, _even if it is only a dream_. 

            "What is going on here?" yelled a startled Dolly. She looked around the room quickly and her eyes fell on Otto whose face was now turning blue through lack of oxygen. He was no longer screaming, but wheezing very heavily. Tears were running down his ugly fat cheeks as he fought to stay alive.

            Dolly quickly yelled to her assistant to call an ambulance as the lights came on and the headmaster of the orphanage strolled in. By now, everyone in the whole orphanage was awake and watching with horror what would transpire.

            "What is happening in here?" asked headmaster Duke. "Oh dear God!" he exclaimed as his eyes found Otto who now had ceased breathing and had a dark purple face that looked like an overripe plum.

            Tom knew that Otto was going to die and for the first time in his life, he felt at peace. The anger was gone, the rage subdued, and the desire for revenge fulfilled. He fell back to sleep wondering when he would wake up from this amazing dream.


	2. A Letter and a Dirty Riddle

The standard disclaimers apply. Some places, events, characters, etc. depicted in this story are the property of J.K. Rowling.

Tom's Riddle

by John Fragile

Chapter Two: A Letter and a Dirty Riddle

Tom Riddle was very surprised indeed when he woke up the next morning and found out that the happenings in his dream the previous night were not a dream at all. First thing in the morning, Headmaster Duke made an announcement at breakfast.

            "Good morning to everyone. I am sorry to have to tell you this, but Otto Odifesta passed away last night due to an acute asthma attack. Had the condition been identified, his death could have been prevented. However, I hope that everything can return to normal as quickly as possible in the midst of this great tragedy. Therefore, I think it would be best if regular lessons continued."

            There were numerous groans from the crowd of breakfasters as this last bit of news was given out. Unfortunately for Tom and the other boys, summer was not seen as a time for playing and doing nothing, they were forced to do lessons year round. Tom did not mind so much, however. He was good at schoolwork. With no friends, he had nothing else to do, so he excelled in math, reading, and writing. 

            Later that day, sitting in math class listening to the teacher go on and on about fractions and decimals, Tom could not help but feel relieved knowing that Otto was no longer around. He knew he should feel guilty for having such an undesirable outlook on the situation, but he could not help himself. _Maybe the world is just better off without some people, he mused to himself. After all, aren't people generally more at ease knowing that people who commit the most heinous crimes are put to death (in some countries, at least). What is a human life, if it exists only to bring sadness and hurt to other people?_

            "Tom," Mrs. Rumbaldi said, "what is the fractional equivalent of zero point five?"

            "One half," he replied. He had been monitoring the lecture in the back of his brain while thinking to himself.

            "Very good," the teacher replied weakly. Tom knew that she was hoping to catch him off guard. She just wanted an excuse to berate him in front of the whole class. Today, she was not going to have a chance.

            He was actually starting to listen to what Mrs. Rumbaldi was saying when an older boy walked into the room. Apparently he had some kind of message for the teacher, who did not seem to notice his arrival, because he kept trying to signal her with his hand. He would raise one finger into the air when he thought she was glancing his way. Mrs. Rumbaldi's peripheral vision must not have been very good because the older boy finally had to say, "Excuse me, Mrs. Rumbaldi." The teacher looked up at him and gave him a look that seemed to ask why he was interrupting her class. "I was asked to bring Tom Riddle to the headmaster's office at once."

            Upon hearing his name, Tom's insides felt like they were about to hit the floor. _They know about Otto was his first thought. _They know I caused his death_. He could not keep the vision of himself in prison out of his head. Although, when he imagined prison, it was almost the same as being in the orphanage, except there were bars around the rooms instead of walls. _

            Mrs. Rumbaldi seemed to consider the older boy for a moment and then gave a slight nod which meant that he was to go with the boy to the headmaster's office. For a moment, Tom thought she would refuse to let him go and he would not be punished.

            Mechanically, Tom pushed his chair back, which gave a slight squeak as the legs brushed across the dilapidated linoleum floor, and got up and walked across the room to where the older boy stood waiting. He could feel the thirty or so eyes on his back as he followed him out of the quiet classroom. As the two boys started down the hall, Tom thought he heard someone say, "Oooo! He's in trouble."

            "What's this about?" Tom asked the older boy tentatively as they passed the doors on either side of the hallway.

            "Duke wouldn't tell me," he replied simply. "But I would imagine that you're in some kind of trouble. Anyone who is summoned to the headmaster's office leaves a short while later."

            The two talked no more as they made their way farther down the hall. The sense of dread was welling up inside of Tom as they got closer and closer to the door marked "Headmaster." Would he be arrested? Were there cops waiting inside the headmaster's office to take him away?

            These questions were answered as soon as they walked inside of the outer office. It was a pleasant enough room with aqua carpet and several overstuffed chairs along the back wall. A few landscape paintings hung from the walls.

            The older boy knocked on the door labeled Headmaster and an abrupt voice said, "Come in," with slight irritation. This was the moment of truth. Hopefully he would be able to eat lunch before they arrested him.

            "Tom Riddle is outside, Headmaster," the older boy indicated.

            "Send him in," came the reply sounding a bit less aggravated. 

            Tom approached the door into the headmaster's office with trepidation. Inside, the headmaster was seated behind an old-looking metal desk with papers strewn haphazardly over the surface area. The slightly-balding middle-aged man seated behind it noticed Tom's look of anxiety and motioned him into one of the two folding chairs in front of the desk. "Don't be worried. You're not in trouble." At these seven words, immense relief flooded through Tom. His insides no longer felt like there were going to fall onto the floor. "Thank you, Sid. You can leave now," the headmaster told the boy who had escorted Tom to this office.

            "Tom Riddle," Duke said as he considered Tom for a minute. "I've been watching you and I noticed that you are different. You don't mix well with the other boys." Tom did not say anything as this obvious observation leaked from the headmaster's mouth. "Up until today, I just thought you were socially inept or socially retarded somehow," he continued as he gazed at Tom with a look that was difficult to read.

            "But I'm not," replied Tom. He finally got enough courage to speak to the headmaster. Tom knew he was different and he knew that he was not socially retarded or inept. He got along fine with Rory. What was the meaning of this, anyway?

            "No, you are not," the headmaster conceded. "You have a certain gift that sets you apart from most of your peers. This arrived for you earlier today." The headmaster indicated an envelope addressed to Tom sitting on top of a pile of other papers on the desk. "It's alright; you can look at it," the headmaster said, noticing the hesitation that Tom was feeling.

            Tom grabbed the envelope and opened it. It made a slight rustling sound as he ran his finger along the top of the envelope to split it open. Three pieces of paper were inside. It appeared to be some kind of parchment that looked like something from last century. On the first piece of paper the following was written:

            Dear Mr. Riddle,

            Congratulations, you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Enclosed you will find a list of supplies you will need as well as directions to Diagon Alley where you can purchase them. Term starts on September first, hope to see you there.

Sincerely,

Armando Dippet

Headmaster, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

            Tom read through this letter several times trying to comprehend what this could mean. He finally asked the headmaster.

            "It means, that you're a wizard and you are going to go to school to learn how to use magic," he replied. "We've had several boys come through here in the past who became prominent members of the magical world through their education at Hogwarts."

            Tom could not believe this. He was going to learn magic and become a member of the magical world. It must be some kind of elaborate joke that the orphanage staff liked to play. But a quick glance at the headmaster's un-laughing and quite amazed face told him otherwise.

            He quickly looked at the other pieces of paper. One was a ticket for the train that would take him to Hogwarts and the other had a long list of items that he would need. He stared wide-eyed at the items that were required: wand, work robes, cauldron, potion kit, were among them. He also needed several books whose titles sounded interesting: _The Standard Book of Spells: Grade One_, _Transfiguration for Beginners_, among others.

            Tom's happiness lasted only a few minutes. He realized that he would not have the money for the tuition to a magic school, let alone for all of the supplies he would need. A magic wand did not sound like it would be cheap. "But, how am I going to go to Hogwarts?" he asked with a hint of concern in his voice, "I have no money."

            "Don't worry about it," replied the headmaster. "It will all be taken care of. I can't give you more details because I don't know them myself, but I was assured that you would be able to attend."

            These words did not make Tom feel any less uneasy. Did he get some kind of scholarship or something? Who would want to give him a scholarship? He pushed these details from his mind as the headmaster said, "You can go now, Tom. You will be sent for sometime in the next week so that you can get your school things." He raised his hand and motioned toward the door as he said this.

            Tom promptly got up from his folding chair and walked to the door, opened it, and exited the office with a slight smile on his face. He was going to be free of this place, finally, maybe, he put in with an afterthought. For all the hard years spent in the Home, he would be justly compensated by learning magic. _Things are starting to go my way, he thought as he journeyed down the corridor back to his math lesson._

            However, it turned out that he was slightly wrong about that last thought. As he lay in bed that night in the dark confines of the room he shared with fifteen other boys, he thought he heard a rustling somewhere near the door. He could hardly sleep, he was so excited about the news that he would be leaving the orphanage. September first was only about a month away.

            He raised his head slightly to listen better to the noise. In the next instant, a large man was standing right in front of his bed. The man reached out with a long skinny arm and patted him on the head, gently. "Hey, Tom," Rory said in a whisper, not wishing to be heard by the other boys. Tom was relieved it was Rory. He had so much to tell him. He could not wait to share the news of his departure from the orphanage with one of the only friends he had. "I got a riddle for you," Rory continued. "What's long, hard, and full of seamen?"

            Tom knew the answer to this and was slightly startled. Rory had never before told Tom any off-color jokes. 

            "Open your mouth and close your eyes and you'll find out," Rory said in a grunting whisper. As Rory said this, Tom said, "No!" in a somewhat loud whisper. He had heard some of the other boys talking about stuff like this and was not about to be a victim. "You have no choice," Rory said as he grabbed Tom's head.

            Tom could not believe this was happening. The fear welled up in him as well as the dormant anger that had subsided since Otto had died. The familiar rage followed and Tom thought about how foul Rory was. All those times he pretended to be a friend, but now Tom knew what he was really after.

            With a soft cry of pain, Rory let go of Tom's head and stumbled back a few feet hitting the wall with a dull thud. Immediately, he raced back to Tom's bed and put a hand over his mouth to stop him from calling out, but immediately removed it with another pain-filled cry. Apparently he could not touch Tom without experiencing pain.

            "What's going on?" said a sleepy voice from the bed on Tom's left. At this, Rory abruptly ran away. Tom felt relieved as he heard Rory's footsteps die away as he ran down the hall.

            "Nothing, Sean," Tom said, hiding his relief that Rory had gone. "I just had nightmare is all." At this, Sean's head made an audible thump as it hit the pillow and the sounds of sleep were soon coming from the bed.

            Tom lay awake the whole night, thinking about Rory. _What a foul creature_, he thought. He thought how Rory was the only one that was ever nice to him. Now that he did not have Rory, he was alone. _Better to be alone than to have a friend like that, he thought sourly. Just as he thought things were going to pick up, they had gotten worse. Maybe his life was supposed to be a big disappointment. It was probably his fault that everything bad had happened to him. Then he realized his mistake. It was not his fault. He was a wizard and everyone else here was beneath him. They saw that he was going to be great and powerful one day, and as a result tried to prevent it. They could not deal with the fact that he was better than them, that he was a superior life form._

            Those thoughts were the only things that brought him through the next few days as he awaited word from the headmaster concerning when he was to buy his school things. Rory had disappeared, apparently. When questioned at breakfast a few days later, Dolly told Tom that he was taking a long-needed leave of absence. Tom was careful not to show his happiness at these words. After all, they were supposed to be friends. Tom did not want Rory to get fired before he had a chance to have his revenge. Rory could not possibly know how grave a mistake he made when he tried to molest Tom. Tom would not rest until his former friend had paid for his deceit.

            "When do you think he'll be back?" Tom asked her, trying to sound as hopeful as possible.

            "Probably in a month or two," she replied. "Now go get your breakfast before we run out. Things are a little tight right now."

            Tom was not sure if the last bit was just to get rid of him or that Dolly actually cared that he got enough to eat. He strongly suspected the former.

            He quickly strode over to stand behind the back of the line waiting for breakfast. He was standing right behind Otto's cronies. Upon seeing him standing there, they quickly turned back around to face the front of the line. Tom thought he detected a somewhat fearful look on their ugly faces. He knew some boys suspected him of causing Otto's death even though such thoughts were completely irrational. Tom alone knew the truth; he did cause it. He was not sorry at all, either. His being a wizard probably had given him the power to kill Otto as well as to drive off Rory. He had worked this out, in his mind, during a particularly boring writing lesson. He had the power, but not the ability to control it. That's where Hogwarts could help him. He was shaking with anticipation for the first day of school.


	3. An Eventful Train Ride

The standard disclaimers apply. Some places, events, characters, etc. depicted in this story are the property of J.K. Rowling.

Thank you to everyone who submitted a review to my story, you inspired me to continue writing. However, I would like to remind people that simply stating "I didn't like it" is not helpful to me as a writer. If anyone has a negative review, I would appreciate **constructive criticism. There's obviously a reason you didn't like it and I want to know why, so that I can improve my writing.**

Tom's Riddle

by John Fragile

Chapter Three: An Eventful Train Ride

Tom Riddle woke with a start and sat bolt upright in his bed. He had just had the most amazing dream. In it, he was being taught how to kill people with his wand. He could not remember his teacher however; it seemed to be just a voice telling him how to murder with magic. _What a way to get revenge, he thought as he fumbled in his newly-purchased trunk for a light. He found a candle and a match and promptly lit the candle and blew out the match. He watched the black smoke climb from the head of the matchstick to the ceiling and disappear. He set the burning candle on the floor as he dug deeper into his trunk, extracting a book. The title on the front cover read __The Standard Book of Spells: Grade One. _

            Ever since he had journeyed to Diagon Alley to purchase his school supplies, Tom had been shaking with anticipation for school to start. Now that it was August thirty-first, he could hardly contain himself. The next day, he would go to Kings Cross Station so that he could take the Hogwarts Express to school.

            Tom flipped open _The Standard Book of Spells _to chapter two and began to read a particular interesting section on levitation charms. However, his mind soon began to wander. He thought about all that had happened to him in the last month. His most memorable moment was going to Diagon Alley.

            It started out as a normal day: breakfast in the meal area, lessons, and then lunch. Then, after lunch, he had been pulled aside by Dolly, rather roughly, and told that she would be driving him to the Leaky Cauldron where he would be able to pick up his school supplies. She seemed to be questioning whether or not one could purchase such items at a pub.

            Once she dropped him off in front of the dingy-looking pub, he had no idea where to go. After considerable confusion, he asked the bartender and was shown the entrance to Diagon Alley, a kind of wizard mall. They had all sorts of magical items that anyone would ever need: cauldrons, wands, potion ingredients, joke items, magic books, and animals: owls, rats, and cats, among others. 

            His first stop was a wizard bank called Gringotts, where he found out that his mother had left him some money for his magical education. Tom was very surprised indeed when he found out he had money that could be used in the wizarding world. Then he remembered that the headmaster had said not to worry about finances.

            After withdrawing a few hundred galleons (a wizard denomination of currency) he made his way to the bookstore where he bought his course books, then to a clothing store to buy robes and gloves, then to a potion supply store for the potion ingredients and cauldron. 

            Eventually he made his way to the wand shop where he was greeted by an elderly gentleman with a strange gleam in his eyes, Mr. Ollivander. He seemed very enthusiastic about his wands. It seemed to Tom that Mr. Ollivander had made him try every wand in the store before one shot sparks out of the end. Apparently, that was the wand for him. Mr. Ollivander informed Tom that it contained a phoenix feather core, whatever that meant. When Tom turned to leave, Mr. Ollivander told him that he could not use magic outside of school until he was eighteen.

            While in Diagon Alley, Tom was happy to finally be where he belonged, to be with people that were like him. He learned several new words as well. Muggle was the term used for non-magic people, muggle-born was the term for people who did not have magic parents, and mud-blood was a term of contempt for people in the latter position. Apparently, it was as bad as a racial slur because a small fight broke out between two wizards when one of them uttered this word. Tom was glad that he was a half-blood, a wizard or witch with one magic parent.

            His mind slowly drifted from Diagon Alley back to the orphanage and the book he was reading. _Wingardium__ Leviosa was the incantation to use when levitating an object. He wished he could try it. __How would they know if I performed magic outside of school? He quickly realized that they probably had ways of detecting it, some kind of enchantment or spell. He would just have to wait._

            By the time Tom finished reading chapter two, it was already into the early hours of the morning. The quiet and stillness of the room made Tom feel at peace. It was such a contrast from the atmosphere during the day. Tom knew that this would be his last night spent in the orphanage for a whole school year. He would not miss it at all.

            Tom blew out the candle with a wisp of breath and was immediately plunged into darkness. He set his book on top of the trunk at the end of his bed, pulled the sheet and blanket around him, laid down and promptly fell asleep with a hope for good dreams about Hogwarts.

            It was still dark with a hint of light seeping in through the window when Tom awoke a few hours later. He looked around the room and found the headmaster standing before his bed. Apparently, that was what had woken him up.

            "You better hurry and get ready," the headmaster said in a slight whisper. "We have to be to the station by eleven o'clock and you still have to pack and it'll take a little while to get there."

            "Who's taking me?" Tom asked interestedly. He sincerely hoped it wasn't Dolly. She'd probably take him to the wrong station.

            "I am," he replied. "Nobody else seemed too excited for the job," he continued. While he said this, Tom jumped out of bed and put _The Standard Book of Spells_ back into his trunk along with a few miscellaneous articles of clothing strewn around near his bed. "I'll be back in about half an hour," the headmaster said and walked out of the room.

            Tom quickly changed into his muggle clothes, a pair of faded blue jeans and a plain black t-shirt. He figured he could change into his robes on the train. There was no need to attract attention to himself at the station by wearing wizard robes. He proceeded to the bathroom where he splashed cool water on his face and brushed his teeth. He was so happy, he was humming.

            He made his way back to the 9-12 dorm with a skip in his step. He entered the room and sat on his bed, waiting for the headmaster to come back and collect him. He sat on the edge of his bed twiddling his thumbs excitedly.

            "Ready to go?" the headmaster asked Tom as he strolled into the room what seemed like hours later. 

            "Yep!" was the eager reply.

            Tom and Headmaster Duke made there way through the orphanage out to the front entrance, both carrying Tom's trunk with apparent difficulty.

            They eventually reached the headmaster's car, a dark blue monstrosity which looked like it could seat seven. The headmaster loaded the trunk in the backseat of the car and opened Tom's door for him and then went around letting himself in. He started the engine which let out a whining protest at first, but eventually started with a _whirr._

            Tom gazed out the window as they drove down the highway. The sky was light enough now so that everything was glowing with early morning sunlight, the scenery flashing by at sixty-five miles per hour. 

            Tom was content to sit in silence while the headmaster drove him closer and closer to the train that would take him to Hogwarts. He reflected on his time at the orphanage and how miserable it had been. 

            "Good 'ol Hogwarts," the voice came from the driver's side. Tom realized the headmaster was speaking.

            "Did you go to Hogwarts?" Tom asked, realizing there was a hint of nostalgia in the headmaster's voice.

            "For a short time, before they realized that I'm a squib," the headmaster replied with a note of pain to his voice. "A squib is a person who has wizard parents, but can't do magic," he continued as he saw the puzzled look on Tom's face. "They thought I could squeak by, but I could barely do even the simplest spells."

            Tom was not sure what to say to all of this. He had so many questions for someone who had actually been to Hogwarts, but did not want to ask them. He feared he would just dredge up painful memories for the headmaster.

            "For the longest time, I was so bitter. I would snap at anyone who did magic in front of me. But then I realized that magic is not for everyone. Not everyone is meant to possess such a gift. It is for the chosen few. You are one of those few, Tom. You have a great gift.

            I knew someone when I was at Hogwarts. A man who everyone thought was crazy. You probably will think he is too when you meet him. You'll know who it is, believe me. Tell him that Duke says hi and that 'war is peace, freedom is slavery, and ignorance is strength.'"

            "Okay," Tom replied, unsure how to respond. If he met any crazy people he probably would not want to talk to them in the first place, let alone give a greeting from the headmaster and recite a strange antithetical phrase. 

            They drove the rest of the way to the station in silence. Tom did not want to think what else the headmaster would tell him to do if he started up conversation again. 

            Kings Cross Station was bustling with people as Tom made his way to platform 9¾ with his trunk on a trolley. He constantly had to call "Excuse me!" as he pushed his way through the crowd. He found platform nine and right next to it was platform ten.

            When the headmaster had dropped him off, he had said that platform 9¾ was between platforms nine and ten and you just had to go through the wall between the two said platforms in order to reach it. 

            With slight trepidation, he pushed the trolley with his trunk on it up to the wall between nine and ten and pushed. To his surprise, he ended up going right through the wall to another platform where a beautiful scarlet steam engine, the _Hogwart's Express, was waiting for her passengers impatiently, letting off steam every once in a while with a __hoot. _

            Tom rushed over to the train pushing his trolley at a high rate of speed. He reached the boarding ramp and took his trunk off of the trolley and headed into the train, dragging his trunk along the ground.

            An amazing sight greeted Tom's eyes as he entered the first car of the train. A long thin hallway with compartments on either side bustling with activity acted as the proximal stimulus. Several students were performing magic, obviously showing off their skills. Others were playing a strange game that Tom thought was called exploding snap. Then he noticed two older boys in the compartment he was standing in front of playing chess. He watched as the taller of the two urged his knight to take a bishop. Instead of simply being removed from the board, the knight actually attacked the bishop with its sword, smashing it to pieces.

            Tom moved up the hall looking for an empty compartment and finally found one at the end of the second car. He stored his trunk on the floor in front of his seat and used it as an ottoman to allow himself to be more comfortable. He was just starting to doze off when he realized that he could do magic on the train, as he'd seen other underage wizards doing so.

            Tom reached into his trunk and pulled out his wand and the _Standard Book of Spells. He turned to the page with the levitation charm. He closed the book and set it down on top of his trunk with a dull thud._

            He grasped his wand in his right hand and with a swish and a flick of the wrist, he said "_Wingardium__ Leviosa." The book began to float up into the air slowly and reached a certain point and stopped, just hovering in midair._

            "That's pretty good," a voice said from the entrance to the compartment. Tom looked up to find a tall black-haired boy standing in the doorway. "You'll probably do well in charms class," he added as an afterthought. "I'm Claudius Black, by the way," he held out his hand for Tom to shake.

            "Tom Riddle," Tom replied grabbing the boys hand in his own. Claudius had a surprisingly tight grip. Tom was a little relieved when his hand was released after a brief shake.

            "Riddle," Claudius said appraisingly, "I've never heard of your family. Are you a mudblood?"

            Tom was shocked at hearing this word, considering its derogatory nature. He better not upset the only person that had talked to him so far. "The Riddles aren't well-known around here," Tom lied, trying to sound as casual as possible.

            Claudius seemed satisfied with this, however, because he sat down across from Tom and started to make small talk, "My mom says I better be in Slytherin or else she'll send me to Durmstrang. She doesn't want me to room with 'blood traitors and mudbloods.' That's her favorite phrase to describe anyone she doesn't like.

            "I'm pretty sure I'll get into Slytherin. Most of the family's been in it," he continued, oblivious to Tom's apparent confusion at the word Slytherin. "You seem like you'd be a good candidate for Slytherin, as well."

            Tom realized his book was still floating in the air and abruptly brought it down with a wave of his wand. It fell onto the trunk with an audible thump.

            "I hope so," Tom said, not sure what he was saying about himself. "I don't want to be with mudbloods either."

            "My mom is pretty anti-mudblood and anti-muggle. She doesn't want anyone but purebloods to study magic. But, I think that anyone who can and wants to study magic should be allowed to. However, that doesn't mean that they have to go to school with us. They should have separate schools, one for purebloods and one for everyone else."

            Tom could understand why purebloods did not want the others to study magic. Why should they share magical knowledge with descendents of the people who persecuted their ancestors? Witches were burned at the stake even just several hundred years ago.

            Tom's thoughts were interrupted by the abrupt entrance of a pretty brunette girl into the compartment. "There's nowhere else to sit," she stated matter-of-factly. "I'm Patricia. And you are?" the girl said to Claudius.

            "No mudbloods allowed," Claudius told her coolly.

            "I'm Patricia _Parkinson_," the girl replied, obviously scandalized by Claudius' remark.

            "Oh. Have a seat then," Claudius said grudgingly. He did not seem to keen to let her share the compartment with them. "I'm Claudius Black and this is Tom Riddle," he said introducing himself and Tom. Tom noticed a slight look of interest on Patricia's face when Claudius mentioned his name, but she said nothing. _She probably thinks I'm a mudblood, he thought darkly._

            "So which of the four houses do you want to be in, Tom?" Patricia asked, making conversation. 

Tom knew that Claudius had mentioned being in Slytherin, so he went out on a limb and guessed that that must be one of the houses. "Slytherin sounds good to me," he said boldly.

"Me too," piped in Claudius.

"Me three," said Patricia lightly. "My parents probably wouldn't be too happy if I wrote home to say I'd been sorted into Hufflepuff."

Tom realized that Hufflepuff must be another house, like Slytherin. He silently wondered how many houses there were and what it meant to be "in" a certain house. Slytherin was probably a house for purebloods, he reasoned.

"Tom here was just practicing some magic when I walked in," said Claudius.

"Oh, show me," Patricia begged.

Tom grabbed his wand and said the incantation and the book once again floated into the air and hovered a few feet above them.

"It looks like you've already mastered the simple levitation charm," Patricia stated knowingly. "I think it would be beneficial to stick close to you," she went on, jokingly.

The three of them conversed lightly for a while about everything ranging from what classes would be like, to sports. Tom mostly listened while Claudius and Patricia discussed Quidditch, a magical sport played on broomsticks.

A low rumble sounded and Tom felt like the room was moving. Then he remembered they were on a train. Apparently it was eleven o'clock because the train moved away from the station, gaining speed as it plunged along the tracks for Hogsmeade Station from which they would proceed to Hogwarts. As the train sailed through the trees which had replaced the city scene, Tom had a feeling that things would be going his way for once. 


	4. Of Lions and Serpents

The standard disclaimers apply. Some places, events, characters, etc. depicted in this story are the property of J.K. Rowling.

Tom's Riddle

by John Fragile

Chapter Four:  Of Lions and Serpents

Hogsmeade Station stood still and breathless in the cold, pale moonlight of early evening. She longed for the hustle and bustle of the daytime, for the excited commuters, rushing around to catch a train, for the screeches of breaks signaling that a train was stopping, forcing out the old passengers and inviting in the new.

            A low rumble began in the distance as a train plundered toward the station, stealing the silence from the surrounding village. A sharp whistle sounded as it pulled up to the station and began to stop with a squeal from the breaks. The _Hogwarts Express had arrived on time._

            Eventually, gallons of students began spilling from the train like blood from a deep gash in the skin. Excited whispers could be heard about what was to come. The doors of the train coagulated and the wound healed, all the students were out of the train awaiting the various vehicles that would propel them further toward their school career at Hogwarts.

            Three first years, on the periphery of the others, talked nervously about what was to befall them as soon as they made it to the school.

            "Well, the sorting will take place soon after we arrive, followed by the start of term feast," Patricia explained to Tom.

            "How exactly does the sorting take place?" Tom asked her.

            "I asked my sister, and she was very vague, but it involves a hat somehow. She could be lying, though."

            Claudius quickly asked, "It doesn't hurt, does it?"

            Patricia only shrugged her shoulders in reply as a booming voice let out a roar from somewhere to their left. "First years, this way!" it exclaimed.

            The exclamation was followed by the arrival of a grey-haired, overly plump wizard. He was only a little taller than some of the students, but five times as wide. His stomach protruded like that of a pregnant woman's when she is late in the third trimester.

"I'm Mr. Yegg, the groundskeeper at Hogwarts. Just follow me to the boats," he continued as he proceeded to walk to the left with all of the first year students trailing behind him.

As Tom followed Mr. Yegg, walking next to Claudius and Patricia, he took in the scenery with passive interest. He turned his head around to look back in the direction of the station. What he saw made his eyes bulge out of his head. There were dozens of carriages gliding away slowly in the distance, pulled along by great winged horses. Tom could barely make out their strange milky-white eyes. _The other students must be going to the castle in those carriages_, Tom thought.

The lake sat in front of the first years and Mr. Yegg, just waiting for one of them to fall in. Soft ripples on the surface of the water caused the reflected moonlight to sparkle and shine. The body of water held a few dozen boats, rocking slightly from the tiny waves.

"No more than four to a boat," said Mr. Yegg suddenly. All of the first years scrambled into a boat, careful not to fall into the lake, even though the water beckoned with icy hands and a cold cackle that sent shivers down Tom's spine.

Tom, Claudius, and Patricia all managed to get into the same boat and were sailing with remarkable speed across the black surface of the lake. A slight whooshing sound could be heard as the bow of the boat made contact with one of the ripples. The three were content to sit in silence, each pondering their own thoughts as they sailed through the night.

Soon, the Hogwarts castle made its presence known, with tiny windows, glowing yellow amidst tall, dark towers through the shadowy night. The first years looked up with awe at the magnificent sight. Tom noted the inviting aura of the glow in the windows, but dreaded the gloominess of the grounds. Anything could be waiting behind one of the trees, or in the shadows of one of the towers, ready to jump out and maim, maul, or murder at the presence of movement.

The small dinghies finally found their destination. Tom, Claudius, and Patricia jumped out of their boat and followed the rest of the first years to a door on which Mr. Yegg knocked with a resounding boom. The door was opened by a middle-aged gentleman with a long, flowing beard.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," he said warmly, extending his arms slightly in a physical show of welcome. "I am Professor Dumbledore, Deputy Headmaster, and Transfiguration teacher. If you'll just be so kind as to follow me, the sorting can begin."

Professor Dumbledore led them down a great hall. Paintings, tapestries, suits of armor, and statues adorned the walls and decorated the floors of this massive area. He led them to a doorway which, apparently, led to the room where the sorting would take place. He then launched into a speech about what would be taking place.

"In a matter of moments, you will be sorted into one of Hogwarts' four houses: Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Slytherin, or Hufflepuff," he stated with a whimsical twinkling in his eyes. "During your time at Hogwarts, your house will be like your family. You will earn points for triumphs and lose them for misbehavior. At the end of the year, the house with the most points wins the house cup. It is considered a great honor to win the house cup and I wish you all the best of luck."

Dumbledore then opened the doors to a great room and led them through the middle of it. It could only be described as grandiose. It was the antithesis of the meal area back at the Home. Where the meal area was smelly and cramped, this place was fragrant and spacious. The meal area felt loud and obnoxious, this place had the feeling of quiet conversation and maturity.

Tom noticed the ceiling was a dark blue with twinkling stars scattered over the surface. A few clouds swirled around the otherwise unmarred sky. Candles floated eerily, above each of four tables, giving off illumination whole-heartedly.

The group made their way to the front of the room where a battered and worn hat sat on a rickety stool. The new students were instructed to gather around the hat. They did so automatically, anticipating what this seemingly ordinary hat would do.

Tom's surprise was shared by all when a rip opened in the hat and it began to sing. It sang a song about the founders of Hogwarts and how each valued different qualities in its students. Godric Gryffindor taught the bravest students, Rowena Ravenclaw taught the brightest students, Salazar Slytherin taught purebloods, and Helga Hufflepuff taught everyone else. This bit of news cleared things up for Tom. The hat ended its song and everyone applauded enthusiastically.

Dumbledore's voice broke through the lively chatter that had ensued after the applause had died out. "When I call your name, come up here and put the hat on your head. Once you have been sorted, proceed to the appropriate table. You will know where to go by the direction of the loudest cheers."

"Abbott, Dakota!" Dumbledore called as a short boy stepped up to the stool and put the hat on his head. After a moment's hesitation, the hat called, "HUFFLEPUFF!" and the boy removed the hat and proceeded to the table that had let out the loudest cheers.

"Black, Claudius!" 

Tom wished Claudius good luck as he proceeded up to the front and jammed the hat over his head. He hadn't gotten the hat all the way down on his head when it called "SLYTHERIN!" and Claudius proceeded to what was apparently the Slytherin's table.

The sorting continued and Tom began to get somewhat bored. He looked around the Great Hall, as it was called, and up to the teacher's table. Adult wizards and witches were talking amongst themselves, clapping as each student was sorted.

"Parkinson, Patricia!"

Tom came out of a trance as Patricia's name was called; he wished her good luck as he did Claudius as she walked to the front. She put on the hat and it seemed to contemplate a little while before yelling, "SLYTHERIN!"

Tom was left alone in front of the Great Hall. He could feel the eyes upon him as he waited for his name to be called. Several more students were made Gryffindors, a few more Slytherins were produced and then…

"Riddle, Tom!"

Tom stepped up to the stool and put the hat on his head, slowly, as if unsure what it would do. He knew he would come out unscathed as all of the others had, but there was that subconscious worry that is always present, that defies rational thought.

A voice inside Tom's head said, "Tom Riddle," appraisingly. "You are indeed brave, putting up with that orphanage, very smart, too. I think I'll put you in…

"GRYF…

"Wait a minute…that's odd." The hat seemed interested in something. "You do have a thirst for power, I have the sudden urge to make you a…

"SLYTHERIN!"

Tom removed the hat and proceeded over to the table of Slytherins, amidst the dignified applause and sat on the bench next to Claudius. The hat had wanted him to be in Gryffindor at first. Why had it all of a sudden changed its mind? Tom would know the answer, eventually.

"The hat almost put you in Gryffindor!" Claudius said, obviously surprised.

"It said that I was brave, I think is why," Tom responded.

"It wanted to put me in Hufflepuff," added Patricia, in a somewhat disgusted tone. "Do I seem like a Hufflepuff to you guys?"

"Of course not," Claudius said, sounding unconvinced, on purpose.

"Oh shut up!" Patricia responded.

"I don't think you seem like a Hufflepuff," Tom said, flatteringly.

"Thanks, Tom," Patricia responded gratefully, with a dirty look at Claudius.

The three then gave their full attention to the remainder of the sorting, clapping and cheering whenever another student was made a Slytherin.

They did not have time to continue conversation as a cold voice rang out over the Great Hall. "May I have your attention please," said an old, tired-looking wizard. "I would like to welcome you to Hogwarts and would like to remind you that the forest is off limits to all students. Please be advised that there are severe consequences for those who decide to break the rules. Rules and regulations will be posted up in your house dormitories shortly." Tom got the feeling that this was the headmaster of Hogwarts, Armando Dippet. "Enjoy the feast," he ended, his smile not touching his eyes. 

Before Tom could protest that there was not any food to partake of, it began to appear on all of the serving dishes. Tom sat with his mouth open in shock as most of his favorite dishes appeared on the serving platters out of thin air. He quickly loaded up his plate with everything that he could get his hands on.

Being with other people that were like him gave Tom a newfound confidence in himself that he lacked when at the orphanage. He found himself joining in conversation with not only Claudius and Patricia, but with many of the other first years and some older students.

"What do you think will be the hardest subject?" asked a blond, bespectacled boy who had previously introduced himself as Polonius Malfoy.

"Transfiguration sounds difficult," Tom replied. "But it also sounds like it'll be the most interesting." He had been reading the Transfiguration textbook and it seemed that it was the most complicated magic that Tom would be required to learn.__

"I've always wanted to turn my little brother into a ferret and bounce him up and down the hall," said Malfoy. Tom let out a slight laugh at this last statement while trying not to spray the huge bite of baked alaska, that he had taken, all over the table. 

Tom received quite a shock when a ghost drifted over and sat down at the table. He was told that this was the Bloody Baron, the Slytherin ghost. His transparent appearance coupled with his blood-splattered robes intrigued Tom, though. It would be interesting to find out how he had died.

The meal was over and the first years were to follow the prefects to their dormitories. A bossy-looking brunette stood up and shouted, "First years, follow me!"

Tom and the others quickly stood up to obey the request. They followed the prefect out of the Great Hall and down the hall, lower into the castle. As they descended what seemed like the fiftieth staircase, Tom was wondering if they were underground. The halls were darker and more menacing down this far into the school. The torches on the walls cast only enough light to create suggestive shadows that played along the carpets as the students trudged on.

Finally, they reached a stone slab and the prefect girl told them that the password was mudblood and the slab slid aside to allow them access to the Slytherin common room.

The room was dark, cold, and stony, the fireplaces seemingly present only for decoration because warmth did not touch this room. On the contrary, coolness and morbidity seemed to radiate from the stone walls. Torches glowed with almost blue flames, casting melancholic and flickering light over the first years and prefect.

"The first year boy's dormitory is up those stairs on your left, the girl's on your right" she said. "Good night," she added as she scampered off to her dormitory to retire for the evening.

Although Tom and his friends were exhausted from their trip and all of the other happenings of the day, they could not bring themselves to go to bed. Instead, Tom, Claudius, and Patricia found comfortable overstuffed chairs in front of the fire and sat down to talk for a while before bed. The conversation revolved mainly around the sorting as Tom relayed exactly what the hat had told him.

"To me, it sounds like you have the qualities of a Gryffindor and a Slytherin," Claudius reasoned, "but the hat knew Slytherin was superior so it decided to sort you into it." There was the sureness of Claudius' tone to go by, but something was nagging at Tom. He knew that he was not a pureblood, so why did the hat sort him into Slytherin?

"The Sorting hat knows where you'll do best, Tom," Patricia told him. "It probably saw something in the last minute that made it sure you would be a good Slytherin." The reassuring smile she gave him as she said this was enough to convince Tom to drop the subject.

"I suppose you're right," he conceded. "I'm exhausted! I think I'll go up to bed. See you in the morning."

"Good night," Patricia said.

"Wait for me, I'm going to," said Claudius as he jumped up from the chair he was occupying and accompanied Tom up the stairs to the dormitory.

They walked into a dim room with five four-poster beds in a row. Their luggage had been brought up and Tom found that he and Claudius were to sleep in the two beds closest to the door. Tom had the one right next to the door and Claudius' was next to his. 

They pulled on their pajamas tiredly and climbed into their respective beds with a whispered good night.

As Tom awaited sleep, he could not help but think that everything today had gone right. He was well on his way to becoming a powerful wizard. Sleep took Tom in its death-like manner and refused to let him go until the sun was just above the horizon the next morning.


End file.
